Second Chances
by fen-san
Summary: Harry didn't expect any contact from his so-called family, can his cousin ever be trusted?


Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or the world of Hogwarts. This is a non-profit fan-work.

Second Chances

Owls landing practically in Harry's plate at breakfast was hardly unusual, even owls he didn't recognise were hardly an unknown phenomenon, so after casting the usual tampering and curse-detecting charms any young auror in training would Harry opened the letter.

"Dear Harry,

Look, if I was in your shoes I'd probably cast an incendio at this as soon as I recognised the handwriting and I wouldn't blame you if you decided to do that. I'd like to meet up with you though, I know it's been a long time and I was a right prick when we were younger, but I'd like it if we could talk - in a public place in Diagon Alley if you're worried about me not having changed in the past three, four years.

I'm not after a piece of your fame, Mum and Dad don't know I'm doing this and to be honest even if they did they wouldn't care. I dunno what else to say. If you don't want to talk that's okay, but I hope you're okay.

Yours,

Dudley Dursley."

Harry read the letter, ignoring the copious ink blots and the occasional smudged bit. Dudley had actually made an effort and his usual childish scrawl was easily legible. Given the chance Harry would never have got in contact with the Dursleys willingly and he'd assumed the same went for them with him. Dudley had been a nearly unrelenting terror to him when he'd lived with the Dursleys, but on the other hand Dudley had been the only one of the family to even wish him well when they'd parted. It had been an easy thing to say knowing they'd probably never meet again, but it was the most any of that family had said to him that was well-intentioned. For Dudley to not only write, but to do so in a way that would reach Harry easily and not go amiss in the wizarding world was completely at odds with the selfish fat pig he'd known.

Dumbledore had always maintained the importance of extending second chances to those who deserved it. Harry didn't want to talk to Dudders again. He'd been a prat at sixteen and surely four years couldn't have improved him all that much. On the other hand Dudley's writing had reeked of honesty and while he hadn't admitted to every single piece of cruelty, bullying and general nastiness he'd been able to admit he had acted badly. The owl that had brought the letter was still waiting and with a wandless charm Harry determined it had been spelled to wait until there was a reply, or the letter was set on fire. The young auror in training sighed and rummaged in his robe pocket for his spare never-out-quill and a scrap of parchment.

"Dudley,

You writing to me is a real shock, especially you of all people using the owl post. I don't know what to think, but you seemed sincere and asked politely so if you're available next Sunday at two o'clock then how about we meet up at Florian Fortescue's ice cream parlour and have a cuppa.

Harry."

The owl hooted softly as Harry gave it the reply and an owl treat, then floated off back to wherever it had come from. Harry checked the time and realised he had to be at Auror Fernandez' lecture on wards in five minutes. He gulped his tea down, shoved the strange letter into his pocket and legged it, hoping he wasn't late.

He didn't receive a reply until the day after next, when he got back to his bedsit near the auror school, where he found the same rather mundane Little Spotted Owl, only the length of its breed's white 'eyebrows' being particularly distinctive. He read the short note back from Dudley as he toed his boots off. It was a simple agreement to the time and place and a brief thank-you for agreeing to the meeting.

Sunday came very quickly, although that was more due to the fact the Harry was thriving on his training and seeing Ginny every other night at either the Burrow where she was still living or out on dates. It wasn't until he looked at the clock in his bedsit on Sunday morning as he lazed in bed reading Hermione's latest letter and saw the hand pointing to 'should be getting ready to meet your cousin' that he swore, showered and tried to find a clean non-auror robe to wear. He felt a bit sick with nerves and the usual anger he felt when he remembered his so-called 'family'.

He apparated into Diagon Alley and looked around for the familiar bulk of Dudley topped off with that faintly ridiculous lick of blond hair he so vividly remembered as his tosser of a cousin. The bastard had stood him up!

'Harry?' A man he'd overlooked sitting at one of the tables already drinking a cuppa stood and looked at him nervously. Harry frowned, taking it for another over-familiar stranger who took him as public property just because he was a bit famous. 'Harry, it's been a while.' The stranger smiled with an oddly gentle expression and Harry stared in confusion.

'Dudley?' He hazarded a tentative guess, mind unable to accept this stranger as the oafish sadist who'd made his life Hell for so many years. 'Who was your best friend in school?'

'Piers Polkiss.' The stranger grimaced at that. 'I went to Smeltings, Dad's old school and my favourite tv programme used to be The Great Humberto.' I guess I do look quite different.' he admitted. 'Did you want some tea? I ordered a pot for two, but… I got a bit nervous and drank the lot. Sit down and I'll fetch us another.' Dudley looked a bit sheepish as he'd gone to pour them both a cup, only for nothing to come out of the pot.

As Dudley bustled off into the parlour itself Harry noticed his cousin was wearing a perfectly normal dark brown robe, blending in perfectly with the wizarding world around him. Harry pinched himself and wondered whether he'd fallen down the rabbit's hole. When Dudley returned, his solid form easily lifting the heavy tray laden with what appeared to be a full-blown afternoon tea Harry blinked out of his daze. 'What in Merlin's name is going on?' He very nearly wailed.

'Ah, sorry about that Harry, as it turned out you're not the only wizard in the family.' His face turned grim. 'Let me get sat down and get this tea poured and I'll bring you up to date on things as best I can.'

Harry squashed his impatience - his instructors kept telling him that his inability to ask for help and his impatience were his two worst traits as a potential auror and he was trying his best to get over them, even though the habits of a lifetime were hard to break.

'First things first - I'm a wizard, Harry. I'm not very strong at all, but there's enough magic in me for navigating the two worlds I live and work in, but that comes a bit later. After you left and that old guy who scared the shit out of us had given us a good talking to I nearly reverted to my old ways. It was easy and it wasn't like Mum or Dad had much interest in keeping me on track to be a decent human being. I carried on boxing, liked the power of it and the rush of aggression and strength I got in the ring. I ended up going up against one of my training mates in the ring, he wanted to make a name for himself by bringing me down and I said he was welcome to try, but that I wouldn't make it easy.' Dudley took a deep breath at that, looking pale. 'I lost it in the ring, I always thought I'd been controlling the aggression just fine. Turns out it was the other way 'round and I damn' near beat George to death. The umpire pulled me off George as the lad hit the mat and it was a long night sat out in the hospital waiting room waiting to see if my friend would actually live.'

Harry was shocked, not at the aggression, he'd always known it was there, had been on the wrong end of Dudders' dark side before. The haunted look in his cousin's eyes as he stared off into the distance made him shiver, Dudley wasn't the only person who'd nearly succumbed to anger and power and the admission hit him like a hammer.

'George survived and I never set foot in a ring again. Mum tried to coddle me and Dad tried to make a man of me. The guys on the factory floor at Grunnings saw the difference and even in the haze I was in then I remember some of them looking at me with that smug look in their eyes like they were glad to see me miserable. I lost my nerve, lost interest in everything and went to work out of habit.' He gulped down the cup of tea in one go and poured milk, then tea from the pot into the cup again, staring into its depths as if he were looking back at his younger self's misery.

'That went on for a year, year and a half? Eventually though Dad decided enough was enough and the three of us went out for a night at the dogs - nothing to do with violence, but something him and Mum hoped would jolly me out of my 'gloomy patch' as they insisted on calling it. I actually quite liked watching the dogs race, the lithe way they sprinted, running as if it was just for the joy of it. I didn't really notice much beyond that, if I had I'd have been sure to take the keys from Dad before he even thought of driving us home.'

Oh Merlin. Harry felt his stomach lurch. Dudley really wasn't sparing much detail and he already felt pity for the poor teenager as he must still have been back then.

'Dad was drunk. It all happened so fast, but we were on the motorway so of course it was fast. All I remember is the bang as we hit something, tumbling over and over. Mum screaming, screaming, screaming and pain and black.' Dudley was breathing hard, tears nearly spilling over those ridiculously pale eyelashes. His light eyes looked even soggier than usual as he looked back over the most harrowing day of his life

'I woke up in the weirdest hospital in the world. These blokes in bright green dresses chattered away at each other so fast I could barely understand and the most beautiful Chinese-looking woman I'd ever seen came over and explained I was in a wizard hospital. I now know it's called St Mungo's, but then it was just the wizard hospital in my head. 'Apparently I had violated the Statute of Secrecy by performing magic in front of muggles.' He smiled and shook his head. 'I yelled and carried on about how I wasn't a freak. I was lucky not to get chucked out and eventually Miss Chang called in a thin ginger bloke called Arthur. He was the muggle expert apparently.'

'Arthur Weasley?' Harry had to laugh at that point. 'He's fascinated by muggles, but he hasn't got a ruddy clue. Good bloke, but his knowledge is a bit patchy.' Harry admitted.

'Arthur did a few magic tests along with the med wizards and they discovered I had some latent magic that the danger of the crash forced to the surface. Mum survived, but her back was broken. My pelvis was practically shattered and one leg was broken in three places. Dad… Dad was dead before my accidental magic manifested.'

'They were able to heal me up nearly perfect, bar some scars and a leg that aches in the cold or wet. Mum wasn't so lucky. I think that was the last straw for her. She's living in a nursing home back up Lancashire way where she grew up with your Mum and has nothing to do with me or anyone really. I ended up selling the house to pay for her care and bought a small flat for myself to live in. Arthur set me up with a tutor to get my magic under control and so I learnt about the wizarding world. Grunnings lost what little appeal it had held for me, I finally had the impetus I'd needed to focus myself on something worthwhile.'

'I had okay GCSEs, but no A-levels so I did night school to get the qualifications I needed and got myself a trainee paramedic position. I mentioned that to Dora, my magic tutor and she got me in touch with St Mungo's and I did the basic magical first aid courses. I'm on retainer with St Mungo's as a muggle-magical liaison in the Surrey area. I've just qualified as a paramedic and basically I do my regular job, but any time there's a potential witch or wizard in need of my sort of help the crew I'm on gets called out.'

Harry was impressed. There was little trace of the arrogant bully he'd known, instead he sat opposite a fellow wizarding orphan who in his own, different way was doing his best to help people. 'I'm sorry to hear about your parents. I know there was little love lost between us, but they were your Mum and Dad.'

'Thanks Harry - for listening and not telling me to sod off. I'm not expecting us to be best mates or anything, I just….' He tailed off, not entirely sure why he'd done it from what Harry could tell - he looked better for it though and he didn't begrudge his cousin the confessional.

'I don't think we're at that stage - my best mate might be a bit upset about being usurped after all, but I'd like to meet up again some time. If you need a second opinion on something about the magical world I'll do my best to help and if you fancy meeting up for drinks some time I'd like that.' Harry admitted. Family had been an obsession for him for a long time and the Dursleys had been a bitter disappointment to him.

'When I was little I wished my Mum and Dad would sweep in through the front door and take me away from all that. Your parents were deliberately unpleasant to me, but they were nearly as bad to you in the opposite way. I'm glad you've turned out alright, even though it took one heck of a path for you to come out the other end. For all that I hated you when we were kids I'd never have wished that on you. I bet Aunt Petunia wasn't exactly backwards about coming forwards with what she thought of your new freakishness.' Harry grimaced at the memory of the sour-faced skinny woman. He couldn't imagine her railing against the big, pink-faced man he sat opposite, but he guessed her hatred of magic was stronger than her love for her only living relative. 'As one freak to another - you're welcome in my house.' Harry then blushed as he thought about the pant and sock strewn bedsit that constituted his house.

Dudley shook his hand. 'In that case….' He pulled out a quill and the receipt for the drinks and laboriously wrote his address out on the back, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. 'Still can't get used to these ruddy quills. Anyway, if you're ever passing or you just fancy popping in here's my address. I pop into St Mungo's a couple of times a week, and they let me keep my owl there so the neighbours don't get suspicious, so if you want to write me a letter just be aware that it may be a couple of days before I actually pick up my post.'

It was nice having a friend who didn't have the same history as Ron, Ginny and Hermione and Dudley's anecdotes about some of his stranger patients made Harry laugh and return fire with a story about a hilarious mishap on one of his training missions. Ron wanted Harry to be the same gung-ho guy he'd always known, Hermione - while not as up-tight as she once had been - still saw him as the righter of wrongs and tried to educate him on injustices in the wizarding world. Ginny was a bit less demanding, but she was more than ready to get married and start a family. It was nice to chat to someone who despite reading the books about him still saw him as just Harry, the bloke who came around to watch the footy or who had got him tickets to the Cannons/Harpies match for his birthday.

By Harry's own birthday Dudley and Harry had become fixtures in one another's lives, not best of mates, but pretty good friends nonetheless. Thus it was that the little owl landing on his bedsit desk on the morning of Harry's birthday was no surprise. Harry tossed a treat at the bird, watching it catch it out of midair before he took the rectangular cloth bag from its talons. Photographs spilled out, along with scraps of paper and another letter from Dudley.

"Happy birthday Harry,

Hope you have a good one and say hi to Nev from me when you go to your party. I didn't know what to get you, but last month Dora showed me a copying charm and then the other day I was clearing out some old junk and found photos of our granny and grampa - your Mum's parents - and some diaries. They weren't all particularly good, but I've copied all of the things I found that I think will interest you. You're willing to sort through the stuff I put in the crap pile next time you're over to watch the footie though.

Dud.'

Harry sat down, greedily feasting his eyes on the photographs of his mum, grandparents and extended family. So many muggle-style Christmases, birthdays and day-trips all packed to the gunnels with smiling, happy faces! There were even a few pictures of his parents when they'd been going out at school! He wrenched his eyes away from his new treasures with some difficulty and slid them into a charmed wooden box he kept all his precious photographs in. He smiled at the box and tenderly placed it back on his book-shelf. Hermione and Ron were planning a surprise birthday party that he knew about thanks to Ron's big gob, but the left him with the rest of the day and what better day to spend with family?

Fin


End file.
